


classic rides

by goldenmagikarp



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 NHL Season, Car Sex, Goalies, M/M, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenmagikarp/pseuds/goldenmagikarp
Summary: Car sex. With Kari (and Nemo).





	classic rides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silkstocking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkstocking/gifts).



Kari is a car guy. Some guys have fashion or shoes or video games, but Kari's a car guy. 

It's always been something about cars. It's not like he's a guy who just goes for whose engine sounds the loudest (though it's great, the sound of the engine rushing past him, enveloping him, roaring between him and everything else that might be in his way) or what paintjob is the shiniest (but he appreciates a nice shiny black or a slick cherry-red as much as the next guy). 

At the heart of it, mostly, it's that cars _go_. They go. 

Kari stops. 

Mostly, that's it, the dichotomy of it all. Kari stops pucks. Cars make things go. 

After his first contract, he does what all the guys do: buy a really nice car. He bought a Porsche; it's still in his garage. It's not the oldest car he's had, but it still sits, a gray thing that's seen better days. He doesn't drive it around much; when he was younger, he didn't mind it not having quite enough leg-room. 

And sometimes Kari pats the dashboard like goalies sometimes pat the posts. 

 

Also sometimes, he and Antti carpool. They live close enough for it, and there's always a grin on Kari's face when he pulls up in his very classic car, freshly waxed and gleaming green. 

"You look ridiculous, you know," Antti tells him once. "Like one of those stupid movies. "

Kari knows exactly which ones he's talking about, so he shrugs. Maybe it's the point. Kari really doesn't know. "But do I look good?" 

And Kari's not going to pretend he cares as much to preen as much as Segs or Klinger or Rous, but he cares, a little. 

"If you're fishing for compliments, trying to be—" Antti goes still, like he's thinking about it. Kari tries to focus on the road, but if this, this is the breaking point, he doesn't know what to think anymore. The light's red, but he turns quickly. 

It shouldn't be. It's probably no worse for his back than sex on the living room floor. 

"You miss fumbling in the backseat like teenagers?" Antti huffs. Amused. 

Kari checks the window over his shoulder. "It was a formulative experience," he says, and he doesn't elaborate. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Antti tries not to laugh. 

 

It doesn't come up much after that. They fall into a good pattern of wins, losses, and finding things to do on the weekend. There's dinners and breakfast and still trying to understand American football, when someone or another hosts a party. There's nights when their adrenaline still pumps after a game, and they work it out together. 

It works, most of all, and there's no bad blood, whoever gets the start. 

 

It comes up once in a while, though. Usually as a joke, as an offhand thing, while they're trying to figure out if the drive over to the other's house is worth it at eleven o'clock at night, after a few drinks (the answer is, well, no; they have perfectly fine large houses with many rooms and many showers). Kari's backseat is really too small for two hockey players, but they could make a good try of it.

And, even as Antti joked about it, Kari never really had this, as a teenager. The fumbling, yes. Not this. When Kari was an actual teenager, he didn't do this, not really, but there's something about the space; and also, Kari has a really nice car, with nice seats and the cool leather at his back when Antti climbs onto him. 

Kari doesn't even know how they got here, not the details, only the big parts, and how they make the fucking playoffs, and Kari has a shutout in game one, and he feels pretty alive and well. It's a cold morning. The engine needs to heat up, defrost the windows. 

Antti's elbow ends up near Kari's rib, and it makes Kari wince. Kari doesn't know where to put his hands, but they end up balled up in the fabric of Antti's shirt. There's not enough space to move, not really, but there's something to say about being too close for comfort, Kari splayed on the seat, Antti hunched over a bit to avoid hitting the ceiling. 

Antti takes in a breath near Kari's shoulder. "It's too damn hot in here," and well, Kari can feel the heat of him, a solid presence, real and there. 

Kari can't help but laugh, maybe a bit more nervously than this really deserved. "Maybe take this off." He really means that as a joke, but Antti worms one of his hands into Kari's pants instead, and Kari can feel himself react. Kari pulls Antti up by the collar so their mouths meet, and it's awkward but Kari's trying and Antti earnestly returns everything Kari gives despite his earlier chirping, and he can't help but think it's more sweet than fumbling. 

When they break, Kari's pretty much puffing hot air into Antti's ear. "So?" 

But Kari's also hard, and he can feel Antti pressing against his hip. Antti says, "We doing this?" 

This. Meaning sex in the back of Kari's nice classic car. 

"Could spread you out on the hood instead," Kari says, no real heart in it. He's fine where he is, but the image flashes in his head, and he thinks he likes it. Another time, maybe, on the hood of a car that's brighter. Maybe a red. 

"I'm not a pinup girl." 

"If you wanted to be, I'll let you start here." Kari does his best impression of a leer, but Antti is still reducing his lung capacity. 

There's a small moment of silence. Antti says, in almost a whisper, more quietly intense: "I'm going to fuck you like you didn't get to, first." 

And when. When did Antti find that out? Kari hasn't thought he'd been that drunk at all, this season, and so Kari flushes. Antti mouths at his neck, moving down, and Kari can only hope he's not following the outward sign of Kari's embarrassment. 

And the clothes removal is more of the fumbling part, but Kari's not complaining. He looks. Antti is probably doing most of the work here, and Kari's assisting, a tug there, a pull here. More skin revealed, and he looks his fill now because it's unprofessional to look later. 

Kari puts his hand on Antti's shoulder, tries to hook his leg around Antti's back but he's reaching for something, and the soft click tells Kari that it's lube. And since when was there lube in Kari's car? He doesn't remember ever putting any in here. 

The lube's still cold when Antti presses his first finger in. It warms up, as it always does, but Kari can't stop the shiver, can't stop reaching for Antti to leech some warmth right after. His fingers are long, just like his stupidly long arms, and he doesn't draw it out; that's probably wise, Kari realizes, they really should have thought this through.

Antti pulls out, and the hand Kari puts on Antti's hip is enough; that's all he needs. He grazes teeth at Kari's clavicle, and hell, why does his stubble _tickle_. Kari catches his breath, in a way he hopes is calm, but Antti takes the moment to line up his cock and thrust. 

One thrust. He grinds down, after. 

Kari grumbles, "Antti, fuck you, move," even as he ruts up to find any friction for his dick, hand moving to the small of Antti's back. 

Antti just huffs in Kari's skin, saying things that don't make sense but maybe with a "patience" thrown in. Patience is not the point of this, Kari wants to argue, but Antti puts a mouth to Kari's nipple and Kari loses that thought, lets out a long moan; Antti knows exactly how hard to suck, how much teeth to edge Kari on. He keeps grinding into Kari, short ragged breaths filling the air. 

Antti's found the angle. Kari spreads a little wider, or he wants to— doesn't know if he succeeds; just to let Antti in with a little more welcome. Anyway, Antti takes it, pushes back in at that moment, hard.

Hard enough that Kari doesn't care there's definitely lube spilling on his nice seats. Kari's cock meets nothing but air until Antti moves just enough that there's the sound of skin on skin and Kari's cock rubbing into Antti's abs under Kari's moans and the low, unrestrained noises Antti makes under exertion and the beginnings of a sheet of sweat, the constant stream of low chatter and half words that Kari's long stopped trying to decipher. The thrum of the engine is the baseline to everything else, and it adds an extra edge to it all.

Kari just needs to get a hand on his dick; he's close, just so close to the edge that he can't stand it. Antti braces one of his hands on Kari's shoulder, more focused on keeping pace now that he stutters and pauses once, twice. 

Jerks up into his hand, hips coming up with him. He gets a mouth full of Antti's braced arm for the movement, and Kari has to laugh, a little, but the chuckle turns into a different sound when Antti's thrust meets him a little more than halfway. 

Kari grips his dick tight enough that he can feel it pinch, but Antti presses against Kari's prostate just enough that it still fucking aches, and Kari just needs to finish.

Antti pulls out and doesn't push back in, and Kari's empty, and all it does is make jerking off more urgent until Kari can feel his orgasm nearing, while Antti's dick rests between them, hot and shooting on Kari's belly. 

After his vision clears, there's spunk on Kari's hand that he can't tell how much of it is his or Antti's, but it really doesn't matter. 

Kari thinks the reason his beats so loud is from the adrenaline, coming down from the rush. So he has to break the tension afterwards, like always. "I," he begins. "I hope you know these are leather seats." 

"Fuck off," Antti says. And he has enough energy to flip Kari off half-heartedly. A few seconds later, he says, "You're the one trying to relive your glory days." 

Kari wants to protest, but he feels too relaxed for that. It seems like too much effort. Maybe in five minutes. He checks the car's clock. 

"It's really stupid, you know," Antti says, softer, against Kari's collarbone like he's trying to muffle it. "You're too young for a midlife crisis." 

Antti's the one who just fucked Kari in the backseat, so Kari doesn't know what he's complaining about. Except maybe they really have to go. 

"You're going to have to explain that to the team," Kari says, after a long minute to catch his breath. "Why we're late." 

And Antti swallows like Kari's done the worst thing in the world—try to be reasonable—and he has this inscrutable look on his face. "Kari, shut up." 

Kari does. 

 

They almost miss the plane, but they managed to suit up and head to face the rest of the playoffs. 

Jim's a little concerned when they show up together. "I don't think we can take off without at least one goalie."

"Flat tire," Antti explains. 

Kari nods. That was a quick save, and a huge one. "On the highway. Lucky for me Antti was the next car by."


End file.
